


Christmas In The Middle Of The Year

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fake Christmas, Fluff, Post-Episode: s11e03 Plus One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: After getting closer in "Plus One", Mulder invites Scully to a very special dinner at home.





	Christmas In The Middle Of The Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AweburnPhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AweburnPhoenix/gifts).



> Writing this was a lot of fun! I wanted to keep with the Christmas theme, but I was set on writing for the time after "Plus One". This is the result. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Soooo." They're standing here, the only two people in this parking lot. Case closed, let's go home and goodbye. Except… 

Mulder buries his hands deep in his pockets, looking like the teenager he hasn't been for decades. He's cute. But he's always been cute, no matter his age. And he knows it, too. Scully doesn't give him the satisfaction of melting; she doesn't even crack a smile. She busies herself with her bag, fumbles with her car key. The car beeps, beeps and she opens the door. That's when his panic face makes an appearance. 

"So what, Mulder?" She is about 99 percent sure she knows what he wants to know. They had sex. Twice. On a case no less. In the past she never would have allowed any of this. Starting with her vulnerability. Mulder was right; they had had worse cases than this and she didn't come crawling into his bed then. But she missed him. Misses him. Even now, looking at him, trying to convince herself that she doesn't want to be in his arms, wants to go home with him, wants to fall asleep tonight knowing he's there. 

"What about Christmas?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, that holiday we celebrate. Christmas."

"Christmas is months away, Mulder." 

"I need to know before I buy a new dinner table." She stares at him, thinking about the night they were hunted down like animals. He said he'd go to IKEA and buy new furniture. She's pretty sure he invited her along, right before she fell asleep on his couch – theirs, really – her head lolling against his shoulder no matter what she did, as if it just belonged there. 

"You haven't yet?"

"No time." Neither of them makes any move to leave. Scully doesn't know what she's waiting for or what he's hoping for. Or maybe she does know and it scares her too much to think about. She leans against her car, watching Mulder.

"What about your trip to IKEA?" 

"You know I always get lost there." She knows that look he's giving her. It's his 'come with me' face. 'I need you' is written on his forehead just for her. It's everything he wants to say, but is scared to utter in case it's not what she wants to hear, in case it's too early. Initiating sex (twice) was easy enough, but she's not sure they are ready for this. If she herself is ready. 

"They put a map there, Mulder. Just follow the map."

"I'm not good with instructions." That much is true.

"Mulder, I don't think…," she trails off. She should have left right away. Say goodbye, see you at work, and drive home. He nods, giving up. For now. 

"I just want to know about Christmas." 

"Buy the big table." It's only going to be the two of them, always. The size of the table doesn't matter, never did. But the way the corners of his mouth twitch make it worth it. She unlocks the car; it's time to go home, whether she wants to or not. 

"Will do. And Scully?" She turns to him before she gets in.

"You'd come if I invited you to dinner? Just to see if the table fits… for Christmas?" Scully smiles at him. 

"Of course, Mulder. See you at work." She quickly starts the car before she changes her mind. The smile remains on her face until she realizes that such an invitation will never come.

But oh boy, is she wrong.

Mulder calls her the next day, formally inviting her to what he refers to as "table initiation". She tries neither to giggle nor gasp. If he's aware of the sexual undertone - and when has Mulder ever shied away from making suggestive jokes? - he plays it down perfectly. Their dining table, the old one, could sure tell a story or two. She finds herself smiling, blushing. She promises to be there on time. Hanging up, she takes a deep breath. Her house has never felt like home. No matter how hard she she tries, it's just a place she returns to again and again, to sleep, to eat. It's not a home. But tonight she'll return home. As a guest, anyway.

Scully parks her car next to Mulder's in the driveway. As she walks up to the door, she is uncertain whether she should knock or just walk in. They haven't done this in so long. Before she can make a decision either way, Mulder opens the door, wearing a grin and an apron that says "kiss the cook". She got him that ages ago as a gift. 

"Hi," he says, ushering her in. The smell of warm food greets her, hugs her and makes her feel welcome. "You're just in time." He helps her out of her coat and then his hand is on her back, leading her inside. "What do you say?" Her first thought is that he is asking about the dining table. But that's not the first thing she sees. No, it's the carefully crafted Christmas decoration all over the living room. A Christmas tree she assumes is fake sits in the corner, all her favorite ornaments on it, sparkling. Both their stockings are up, the fireplace softly crackling for the atmosphere. Her mouth hangs open, unable to understand what is happening right in front of her eyes. 

"Merry May-Christmas," Mulder, closer than she thought he was, says in a soft voice.

"Mulder, you're crazy," she whispers, afraid to speak up in case any of this will disappear. In case she's dreaming. 

"I needed to know if the dining table fit with the theme. So, what's the verdict?"

"It's perfect." Scully touches the wooden surface of the new table, follows its unique patterns. "You didn't get that at IKEA, did you?"

"No," he answers simply, "I thought maybe it was time for an upgrade, something that's sturdy and durable." Their eyes meet over the table, the flickering of the candles reflected in their eyes, on their faces. She smiles, hoping he'll understand how much she loves it even if she's at a loss for words.

"Now," Mulder clears his voice, "I didn't go all Christmas on dinner so we're having chicken. You still like chicken, don't you?"

"Mulder, we could have frozen pizza and I'd be happy." She sits down at the table, realizing the chairs are new as well. There's enough space for her, for him, for more.

"No frozen pizzas tonight, Miss Scully. Maybe tomorrow." He winks at her and she laughs. As he disappears into the kitchen, humming a Christmas song, she looks around again. Mulder has used Christmas napkins and their good china. She took none of it with her when she left. Everything she needed fit into a small overnight bag. If she couldn't have Mulder, and she couldn't have him then, what did she need? Not much, it turned out. She never had. But she traces the china's patterns, smiling in remembrance. They picked it out shortly after moving here. One of their first outings as a couple, as free people. Mulder hadn't been able to stop touching her, no matter who was watching. The saleswoman had mistaken them for newlyweds and neither of them had corrected her, for once. 

'Finally we get to pick out china patterns, huh?' He'd kissed her long and deep. They'd picked a simple pattern, agreeing without much hassle. Mulder had dubbed it their Kismet dinnerware. Those were the good days. She doesn't want to think about the years after, the darkness that found them, swallowed Mulder whole. Watching him now, gently swaying to the music only he hears, she knows he's back, if a bit battered and bruised. She's never once stopped loving him, not for a second. 

"Here we go." Mulder returns carrying a tray. "Chicken à la Mulder and a choice of vegetables because I know you'll eat nothing that doesn't come with some greens." Her stomach grumbles just looking at all the food.

"You did all this for me?"

"Well, I thought I'd have some, too." He sits down and cuts the chicken. Years and years ago, two decades, who would have thought she'd find herself at a table with Mulder in their house, celebrating Christmas in May? She chuckles; she should have known.

"I hope you're not making fun of the broccoli, Scully." 

"Never, Mulder. I was just thinking."

"Now's not the time to think. Time to eat. Here, try." He offers her a piece of perfectly cooked chicken. She opens her mouth and he places it on her tongue. Her lips touch his fingers as she closes it and she sees him shiver. 

"Hmm," she sighs, looking at him. "It's amazing."

"It is?" His look is dreamy. Scully nods, takes a piece herself and offers it to Mulder. There are two forks right next to their plates, but at the moment she can't imagine using them. At all. He opens his mouth dutifully, a blush and a smile on his face. 

"What do you think?" She asks him, her voice low. Her finger hovers in the air, close to his mouth. She misses his mouth. It's been two days and she misses it. His lips against hers, the way he maps her body each and every time; the way he smiles when he discovers how wet she is for him. 

"I think I'm a lucky bastard. Scully, I promise I didn't plan this as a seduction." Her eyebrows rise and she eyes him.

"You didn't?"

"You sound surprised. I wanted to do something nice for you. It's always been up to you what happens after." His smile is almost shy.

"What did you make for dessert?" She asks him, curious. She touches his cheek, wiping away an imaginary crumb. He is warm and she just wants to touch him, soak it up.

"Uhm, mousse au chocolat."

"And you say you didn't mean to seduce me." Her fingers wander back to his mouth. She is aware their dinner is getting cold and she's hungry, but she's no longer sure it's for food.

"It's up to you," he repeats. "I will follow your every lead, Scully."

"We can't let the food get cold."

"I have a microwave. A good one. Will taste the same."

"You sure?" She's stroking his cheek and he nods. She reaches for the wine he's poured. She smells it first; it's her favorite. His eyes follow her every move. "Have a taste." She offers the glass to him and he shakes his head. She understands. She takes another sip, grins and then she kisses him. 

"This is all I wanted since Christmas. The one in December." He's breathless against her lips.

"Is that why you thought we should celebrate in May this year?" She peppers his face with kisses. She's wondered if it was too soon, whether this is a good idea. But she hasn't stopped thinking about him, about being here, since they left the parking lot. She made a first choice when she crawled into his bed that night. As misguided as it was, that first time anyway. Had she asked him to, he would have held her all night, not making a single move. He made sure she was satisfied before, as always. She went to him because he was – is – the only thing, the only person, to ever make her feel safe. The second time was another choice, a desperate longing. The third one, tonight, will be a celebration.

"I just- I miss you so much, Scully. I promised I'd stay on the sideline and be patient and I am. But I missed you and I wanted to see you. Christmas is your favorite holiday and you… you are my favorite everything." She kisses him again, deeper this time, needing to feel him. She takes his hand blindly, walking backwards towards the stairs. They pass the tree and it tickles her; it's real after all.

"You got a real Christmas tree," she gasps against him, feeling his desire.

"'Course I did. Not the same with a fake one." They make their way upstairs and Scully isn't sure how. They can't stop touching and kissing each other. One of them giggles. Maybe it's her. It doesn't matter. 

"Mulder, tomorrow I want to initiate that table." His laugh vibrates through her. "Test that sturdiness."

"Your wish is my command." That's the last thing they say for a long, long time


End file.
